


how was i to know i'd be crawling back

by youforget



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: Ashes 2015, M/M, set after the trent bridge test
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 19:55:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15444648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youforget/pseuds/youforget
Summary: "When someone says I hate you, they really mean you hurt me"orjimmy and Michael have makeup sex (kinda) after Michael announces his retirement after the trent bridge test





	how was i to know i'd be crawling back

**Author's Note:**

> title from nerve - don broco which was the majority of my inspo for this  
> i know this isn't especially factually correct  
> the italics are text messages  
> un beta'd, any criticism is welcome!

He leaves the ground to polite applause, but already Michael knows the whispers would have started. Amongst the media, amongst the team. How he should have retired earlier, been more decisive, less dismissive of England. ‘Hubris’ is one word that springs to mind as he drags himself back up the steps to the changing room, desperately trying to ignore the whoops and elated laughter from the opposing balcony, another stinging reminder of what could have, should have been.

Slumping into the seat a beer gets passed into his hand from Dave or Smithy, he doesn’t want to know, to see the disappointment in their eyes the utter dejection at the manner of their defeat. All out for 60, Christ that’s something he’ll never live down. He doesn’t stay with the team for long, the air seems to choke Michael and everywhere he looks he feels even more consumed by the guilt, by the reputation he could never quite live up to. A few of the boys ask whether he wants to go out for drinks later, probably out of pity more than anything else. But Michael politely passes on the offer, he’d rather have the solitude of his hotel room than the sympathy of his team mates right now.

A couple of hours and one shower later and Michael is starting to feel something more remotely close to human. Lowering himself onto the bed trying desperately to ignore the twinges in his lower back and legs (another reminder of why he had to go). He swipes idly through his phone replying to the accumulation of unanswered texts that had amassed since he had announced his departure earlier that afternoon, messages of consolation from various friends and teammates asking whether he wanted to go out for drinks, insignificant really considering he’d have plenty of time for that in a weeks time. Commentary, after dinner speeches. The kind of stuff he’d mocked senior players for when he first joined which would now become his livelihood for the next ten to fifteen years until he’d eventually fade out of the public consciousness, another name, another statistic.

The buzz of his phone draws Michael out of his reverie, looking at the sender he can’t help but sigh. Jimmy, what would he want? They had barely spoken a word to each other the entire series, _How’s retirement?_ So it was going to be like that then, Michael sighed and went to grab a beer (he’d need it if he was going to spend the rest of the evening contending with Jimmy’s acerbic wit ). He wasn’t going to rise to the bait _Not for another week, not that you’d care_ Michael pressed the send button with a fierce jab and sat back into the sofa turning the TV onto whatever crap was on, and waited.

One beer turned into several by the time he was rewarded with Jimmy’s reply _Oh but I do, winning gives you a certain perspective on the troubles of others_ He could practically taste the sarcasm leeching through the phone, spurred on by the alcohol Michael made an equally sarcastic reply _Why don’t you concentrate more on getting drunk than giving me your life lessons, sound good?_ He smashed the send button and tossed the phone onto the bed as he made his way to the mini bar, Michael definitely needed something stronger than beer if Jimmy was going down the nostalgic route tonight, reaching for the scotch Michael made sure to pour himself an extra generous serving. Knocking back the clear amber liquid he savoured the caustic burn as it went down his throat, it served only to distract him momentarily as the phone lit up the darkening room. Swiping the phone from the bed Michael gritted his teeth anticipating the narcissistic, self-serving bullshit Jimmy would have spewed next _Now now Michael no need to be such a sore loser, and I can get drunk just fine thank u very much Pup_ Petty, immature words. If Jimmy was looking for a fight then Michael would certainly give him one _Sore loser? You’re not the one who lost, has lost everything_ He sent the text and suddenly he felt so drained, so tired and hopeless at the loneliness and desolation his future held. Michael wanted so much to be nineteen again back in Lancashire drinking shitty imported beer with Jimmy, kissing in abandoned warehouses, reckless and free. The thrill of their hidden tryst. But that was fifteen years ago, carefree smiles replaced with stinging insults and nonchalant glances, they were both different people now.

Michael felt the phone vibrate in his pocket, letting out an exasperated breath he unlocked the screen. _Do I detect a hint of self-loathing? Want me to come and kiss it better (;_ That was unexpected. Well played James, Michael thought as he let out a shuddery breath at the prospect Jimmy’s reply held. He’d never normally relinquish control to Jimmy. That had been one of the long standing points from their relationship, Jimmy had always submitted himself to Michael, never the other way around, he’d never allow himself to. To submit himself to Jimmy had always just seemed so inherently wrong to Michael, and yet right now he wanted nothing more. To escape responsibility, duty and just to allow himself not to feel was something he desperately craved. _You know where I am, Room 402, I’m waiting_. Ball’s in your court now James, Michael smirked and waited.

 _I’m waiting_ Jimmy couldn’t help but shiver that Michaels last text had elicited from him, it was easy enough for him to get away from the rest of the team. A few words whispered to Broady who was draped over Finnys equally large frame in the corner of the club and the promise of his swift return and he was off. Jimmy wasn’t quite sure whether he’d give Michael what he wanted, he knew the other man was hurting, his texts were a good enough indication of that. However that therein lay the problem of their relationship, sex had been nothing but a commodity between the pair of them, in lieu of the words that needed to be said. Jimmy let out a frustrated sigh as he rounded the corner to the hotel where the Australian team were staying. It was easy enough to get in, the main reception area was sparsely populated and no one at this time of night bothered to give Jimmy a second glance as he entered the lift.

The knock on the door finally stirred Michael out of his drunken haze, padding over to the door he spares a quick glance through the peep hole, just to check if it really was Jimmy before opening the door to him. Jimmy strolled through the door, only sparing Michael a nonchalant glance before depositing his jacket onto the sofa and sitting down to finally look Michael in the eyes “You look like shit” is what he finally says “Hello to you too James” he drawls “Well aren’t you going to offer me a drink?” he smirks laconically. No point in arguing he thinks and goes up to the minibar to grab a drink, when he turns around Jimmy’s right behind him, “Why now?” he asks. Shit Michael internally curses himself, this wasn’t just going to be another pity fuck was it. “Why what?” he deadpans pushing the drink into Jimmy’s hands and flopping down onto the sofa. Jimmy rolls his eyes before sitting down next to him “You don’t say so much as a word to me for a year now all of a sudden you want a fuck?” Michael winces at the anger in his tone, at the piercing gaze locked on to him “Maybe because that’s what was always expected of me” he responds in kind, if tonight was a night for honesty hell he might as well put it out there.

He pauses to collect himself and continues. “Maybe it was always expected of me to be the dick, that arrogant little prick whose job was to rile everyone up. But maybe, just maybe Jimmy I’m fed up and tired of being that person”. Michael looks up at Jimmy expecting another quick rebuttal but instead the other man is looking at him contemplatively, almost a little dumbstruck. The silence stretches out between them until Michaels feeling more than a little bit uncomfortable. “Seriously Jimmy, you’re not going to tell me to fuck off, call me a narcissistic- . He was cut off by Jimmy smashing his lips into his into a series of harsh nips backing him up onto the bed until Jimmy was straddling him “Clothes. off” Jimmy growls like a man possessed scrabbling at his zipper and shirt “Fuck..yeah” Michael pants giving in to a feeling that he hadn’t allowed himself for years.

Morning comes too soon and too swift and when Michael opens his eyes to the grey pre-dawn light he can’t help but notice the warm body he’s wrapped around. Jimmy’s soft steady breaths almost serves to calm the rising nausea and panic at the thought of his impending mockery. He’d given in too easily, hadn’t put up enough of a fight. “You think too much” Michael turns his head to watch Jimmy stare at him blearily as he comes to “One of us has to” he quips and he surprises himself at how composed he sounds. Jimmy presses a quick kiss to the top of his head before stretching languidly (a sight Michael can’t help but appreciate) and moves to collect his scattered clothes from around the room.  
“So what happens now?” he asks, while Jimmy is in the bathroom, because he has absolutely no clue how to handle this situation right now. “We carry on like we always have” Jimmy’s reply stirs him from his dreary thoughts, Michael turns to look at Jimmy as he sits on the bed next to him “We’ll still see each other interviews, awards nights and all that shit. But don’t mistake this for what it is” He gives Michael’s hand a gentle squeeze before moving to the door. “What is it then Jimmy” he retorts as the other man is walking through the door, he turns to spare Michael a glance and well shit is there pity in his eyes for Michael? That’s a first.

“Goodbye” he utters and closes the door leaving Michael alone to dwell on what had just taken place.

**Author's Note:**

> so there is a bit of backstory to this steaming turd i've written  
> i wrote the majority of this during the 2015 series (like 3/4 of it)  
> but then uni and life got in the way and it's sat on my computer until very recently, i don't like the ending much but i needed this out of my life


End file.
